Happy Hunting
by Pakmai
Summary: When Sam and Dean Winchester roll into town, most of the time no one ever remembers them. Sometimes they touch lives and make a difference. For one woman, they gave her a purpose in life, and she will never forget them. One-shot, Sam/Dean/OC.


**Just a little something I thought up today, I'm new to Supernatural fanfic, but I hope that I did alright. I like to think that there's a whole other story where this one ends off, but I'll let your imaginations fill in the blanks. :)**

**I don't own anything, I am just playing in a sandbox. Hope you enjoy!**

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><p>I used to be a normal girl, normal worries, trudging through life in the fog. And then one night it all changed, and my life became a story, the likes of which you tell around the camp fire. What led me into that particular gastro-pub that night? That, at least, is an easier explanation.<p>

It had been a long day, another day of job hunting. Being an artist was romantic and all, but didn't always pay the bills. Actually it almost never paid the bills. I had had to move - again - and was between permanent jobs, again. For some reason I had a hard time holding a job. Not because I was dumb, incompetent, or not working hard enough, I was even polite. It just seemed like every job I got eventually had to have 'cut backs', and I was always one of the first getting cut. And of course my varied job history made it hard to get another job. So, exhausted and stressed from my day, I entered the pub my friend Carol and I went to a few times, vaguely noticed a few people at the bar, and sat a few stools down from them.

"No, Dean. Leave her alone." A male voice from my right - one of the two others sitting at the bar - said in a hushed tone.

Naturally, this made me curious and I glanced over casually, only to do a bit of a double take as I saw what appeared to be two male models in casual street clothes sitting there. The one that spoke - presumably - had longer brown hair and looked vaguely embarrassed, offering me an apologetic smile.

The one closer to me, Dean he was called apparently, gave me this little half smile, flirtation clear in his demeanor though I had no clue why They were both the type of guys that you just did not see in a normal, sort of rundown pub. "How you doin'?" He asked in a slightly rough voice that made me wonder if he ever smoked.

Then again, the whole approach was a little cheesy and I was too tired to comprehend exactly how good the situation was. "Does that usually work for you?" I asked instead as I watched him, admiring the two of them while I had the chance.

While Dean looks a little surprised and slightly flustered, the other man with him just snickered, hiding his grin and laughter behind a hand which he clamps over his mouth, turning more fully toward the bar to grin a little at his beer glass. Recovering himself quickly but a little more seriously, Dean nods a little. "About fifty-fifty." he says before he smiled again at me, something that caused me to briefly lose focus. "Still.. you look like you've had a rough day. Let me buy you a drink."

Well, at least he was honest, I thought as I looked at him before I shrugged a little. "What the hell. I came here for a drink, might as well have a hot guy pay for it." I wasn't really in the mood for mincing words, so I smiled sweetly at him afterwards, tilting my head a little. "I'm Katelyn." I offered, holding my hand out to him.

Dean smirked a little and nodded. "Pleasure to meet you, Katelyn. I'm Dean, this is my brother Sam." He said as he lifts his hand to attract the attention of the bartender to bring him over, ordering himself another beer before he looks over at me expectantly.

"Irish car bomb. Just mix it together though, don't bother with the shot glass." I said as I looked at the bartender, already knowing that's something they can handle. And while I didn't really want to get drunk quickly, I wanted something a little stronger than a beer.

"Wow.. You've got quite the taste, Katelyn." Dean said, rather impressed as he looked at me, chuckling a little. "To be honest I expected you to order a beer or one of those fruity girly drinks." He said in what sounded like an almost reluctant tone, glancing at his brother before he looked back at me.

I couldn't help the small laugh that came from me as I looked at the surprised expression on Dean's face. "This is not my first time here. And yes, I happen to like the taste of it." I said in my best haughty tone, smirking a little. "I have to ask, did I miss a memo about some sort of photo shoot in this town or something? 'Cause I've been here a while, and guys who look like you two, do not hang out in podunk towns like this."

Interestingly enough, it seemed to be that comment that pierced the confident barrier that Dean seemed to project, because he seemed to look a little embarrassed, looking down for a moment with a little laugh. "Well, we're not models, pretty damn far from it, actually." He says with a little smile. "We're just passing through, spending a few days here. It's not so bad." He says as he looks around for a moment.

Just as I was about to take a drink out of my glass, I looked around as the lights flickered a bit for a few moments. "Wow. Wonder if someone hit a telephone pole or something." I said thoughtfully, figuring it was either that or someone wasn't paying their electric bill. I glanced around to see if anyone else was concerned about it, but the bar was mostly empty at the moment, and no one really seemed concerned, so I figured it wasn't something that I should worry about.

One look at the brothers next to me however, and I started to question whether or not I should be concerned. Because the looks that they gave each other, the sudden straightening of their backs as they sat up on their stools, suddenly alert as they looked around, told me that something was going on that I was not privy to. "You guys aren't going to rob this place, are you?" I asked bluntly, hoping that they would let me go if they planned to do something like that, taking a long drink out of my glass.

Dean looked over at me and smiled, but it was a tight smile, one that was rather faked and given by someone who was concerned but trying to hide it. "Don't worry about it, sweetheart, we're not going to rob the place." he reassures, paying the bartender before he asks, "Have you lived in this town long?" He turned toward me on the stool, trying to put on the charm again, but Sam slowly got up from his chair and moved toward the wall, then toward the back room, glancing around cautiously as he goes, trying to make sure no one notices him.

"Ummm.. for a little while, five or six years I guess." I said in a distracted tone as I watched Sam move toward the back of the bar. "Is there something going on that I should know about?" I asked in a wary tone as I looked at Dean for a few moments, and then back around the bar as the lights flickered again. "Ok.. that's getting a little disturbing." I pointed out as I looked back at Dean.

"Ahh, don't worry about that." Dean said with a little wave of his hand. "So this bar.. it's been here a while?" he guesses as he looks at me, trying to keep my attention obviously, less flirty now and more intensely interested.

Finally, I managed to turn my full attention back to Dean and I nodded a little. "Yeah, it's been here forever, I guess. I mean, for fifteen years or something. From what I hear from the locals, the owners are real history buffs. Most of the fixtures are antiques. This bar? It's from an old speakeasy from the 20's, somewhere in Chicago. They found it when this bar was put up for auction." I explained, running my hand along the smooth surface of the bar, jerking my hand away after a moment as I felt something like an electric shock from the bar. "Ow.. that was weird.." I muttered as I looked at my hand for a moment.

After the look of concern on Dean's face, things got a little weird. And by weird, I mean totally insane. The lights flickered again, and this time, an empty shot glass that was sitting on the bar went shooting back into the bottles of alcohol lining the back of the bar near the mirrors that are pretty much inevitable in any bar. A few people had been leaving, and the door slammed shut behind them, any open windows also slamming shut.

"Great. Guess it's pissed off." Dean says before he gets up. "Sam! You got anything back there?!" He yells toward the back, the music screeching and cutting out after a moment, leaving just occasionally flickering lights.

"Someone want to tell me what's going on?" I asked, glancing around as I realized that I was actually the only other person there. "Where did the bartenders go?" I demanded after a moment, wondering where all the staff went.

Sam came back from the back and threw what looked like a sawed off shotgun at Dean, who caught it deftly out of the air. "Looks like they all got out the back. Guessing this isn't the first time this happened. It's ghosts, Dean, not demons." He addresses the other man, and seeing them standing together made me realize that holy hell are they tall. I figured I was a little above average height for a girl being 5' 10", but that was nothing next to these two. Also, probably an inappropriate thought given everything that was happening.

Unfortunately my hand was still on the bar which meant that was about my last thought before something happened. I felt a numbness start o spread up from my hand, and then I started to feel disconnected, like I was in a dream. It's then that I realized that I was not in control of my body and it was more like watching a movie. Fascinating but terrifying at the same time.

Dean nodded and looked at Sam for a moment. "No kidding, genius. Which means it's attached to something or someone in this bar." He said as he looked around for a moment, doing a little bit of a double-take as he looked at me, taking in my change of posture and expression. "Hey Sammy, I think we have a problem." He said as he turned his shotgun toward me, sending another spike of fear through me.

"No! I won't let you take it! This is all that I have left!" I felt myself saying the words but I wasn't the one saying them. I moved in front of the bar, spreading my arms out as if protecting the very building from whatever the two men had planned.

Sam exchanged a look with Dean and nodded a little. "Ghost possession. It's a strong ghost." he said as he looked back at me, looking down at a duffel that he had in his hand which he must have retrieved from the back. "Did she tell you anything about this pub before she.. you know.." He motioned toward me helplessly with his own gun.

"Owner is a fan of antiques. She did say the bar was from the 20's, some old speakeasy. Chicago." Dean says the city name as if some realization just dawned on him, and he looks at Sam, shaking his head. "Get her away." he says before taking the duffel from his brother, grabbing out what looked to be a tin can full of something. If the smell was any indication, it was gasoline.

Taking a deep breath to brace himself, Sam held his hands up defensively, "I don't want to hurt you.. but I need you to get away from there.." He said as he moved forward, looking like he was bracing himself for something.

And a moment later I realized what that something was as I saw him fly backwards into a table, crashing to the floor and breaking the top from the pedestal, even as I yelled. "No! You can't have it!" Maybe shrieking would have been a better word for the noise that came out of my mouth.

Dean wasn't about to let any of that stop him, using the distraction to unload his shotgun into the alcohol behind the bar, the liquid spilling and the various smells starting to fill the air, before he uncapped the gasoline and started to pour it along the bar, furthest from where I was. That is until I threw him across the room too, somehow. I felt a slight surge of power through my body, along with fear and hatred.

Managing to get to his feet and use Dean as a distraction, Sam came up and grabbed my arm, yanking me backwards so that his chest - a rather muscular chest - was pressed against my back, and his arms - which were more like rebar - held me in place. "Dean! Do it!" He yelled as he tried to hold onto my struggling form.

Dousing the rest of the bar in gasoline, Dean lit a book of matches before tossing it onto the liquid, igniting the entire thing and everything behind it as the alcohol fed the flames more. I'd never seen anything go up so quickly.

And then I moved again, my head tilting back and a dying, terrifying scream coming from my throat as whatever was inside me left and released my body back to my control. Utterly spent, I felt my knees go out as I sagged against Sam, glad he was there or I would have fallen flat to the floor.

"Whoa there." Sam said before shifting his hold and picking me up bridal style. "Time to go!" he yelled at Dean, carrying me toward the door which he rather impressively kicked open in order to bring me out to what I could only describe as an older model black car, my mind wasn't working so well at the moment.

Dean followed with the duffel and everything, going to the trunk to toss everything in before he came back to where Sam had laid me on the ground beside the car. "She going to be alright?" He asked warily as he looked down at me.

I stared up at the two men hovering over me, frowning a little and struggling to stay conscious. "Who are you guys really?" I asked, needing to know, not understanding what just happened to me.

Kneeling down beside me and brushing a strand of hair out of my face in what seemed like an unusual gesture coming from him, Dean smiled a little. "I told you. Dean and Sam Winchester. We're brothers. And this is sort of what we do. Told you we wouldn't be in town long. You were possessed by a ghost. You'll be alright though." He secured something around my wrist, an interesting bracelet. "Keep that. It'll keep it from happening again, so don't take it off." He warned before glancing around. "Come on.. we'll get you home."

Sam helped to get me up, figuring out which car was mine apparently because I didn't really remember much until I was being carried back into my apartment, and laid down on my couch. "Probably better if you just forget about us. But don't take that off." He warned, touching the bracelet before covering me with a blanket. And that was the last thing that I remembered. I thought I might have felt lips pressed against the top of my head but I'm pretty sure that was wistful thinking.

Morning came around, and with a gasp, I sat up from where I was still on my couch, looking around rapidly. It all seemed like an elaborate dream. Except for the bracelet that was still on my wrist. As I got myself cleaned up, I thought about the brothers, the Winchesters, who had saved me and possibly others from a ghost - was I really believing that it was a ghost? - which was haunting the local pub. They didn't stay around for any sort of recognition, and who could blame them? Anyone would think they were nuts, and honestly I thought I was a bit nuts for thinking about it. That didn't change how heroic I thought they were. And they did this for a living, saving people from all sorts of things, I could only imagine. After I was showered, fed and changed, I sat down in front of my computer, doing web searches as I started a sketch, wanting to remember the faces of the two saviors. I knew that this had changed me and set me on a different path, I only hoped that one day I would get to see them again and thank them properly for what they did.

Wherever they are, I hope that Dean and Sam know how very grateful I was that they were there that night, and that they took care of me. I'll thank them one day. Until then, I had a purpose to my life and I was going to do everything I could to prepare for that day, a day where I might even be able to save them in return.


End file.
